Silver Tongued Devils
by SkyrimAndSwords
Summary: "And you?" "Well, Django, I guess I have yet to find MY Brunhilde." When he found her, he fell. In an attempt to mix business and pleasure, Dr. King Schultz explores new feelings with a potentially dangerous woman. Madly in love, could their relationship be threatened by Candie? Schultz/OC *WARNING* Lots of adorable stuff, language, violence, and some smut.
1. Chapter 1: My Brunhilde

**My first fanfiction (on this account!) I just love Django Unchained, and of course, my favorite character is Dr. King. Mmm. Delicious. AAAAANYWAYS I started writing this a looooong time ago and just never published it. It's gonna get juicy, but here is the prologue or what have you. Please tell me what you think! More to come soon!**

**I do not own any characters from "Django: Unchained"**

**"**Why you care what happens to me? Why you care if I find my wife?"

Dr. King Schultz looked into Django's eyes, flashed his most reassuring smile, and replied, "Frankly, I've never given anybody their freedom before, and now that I have I feel vaguely responsible for you. Plus, when a German meets a real-life Sigfried that's kind of a big deal. As a German I'm obliged to help you on your quest to rescue your beloved Brunhilde."

He swashed down the last remains of water in his cantene before tucking it back into his pocket. He felt Django's eyes on him still, as if the former slave was unable to express his gratitude. Dr. King didn't mind the silence. Besides, he was too humble to even admit it was a large gesture.

"Django," he started, "We're running pretty low on water. This summer has been brutal, come winter, water won't be an issue-"

"What about you?"

His eyebrows burrowed. "What about me what?"

"You ever been in love?"

A look of sadness and relief swept over the doctor's dark eyes as he struggled to find the right response. "Eheh...aaaahhh...weeeelll...hmmm-" he sat up, as if perfecting his posture would assist his wording. "No."

Django watched King with great intent. _Surprise, surprise, the boy is still curious._

"I have been in many a relationship, and in my younger years I lay with plenty a woman, but I guess...I just never met the right one. I never really met my Brunhilde." He smiled gingerly and stood up. "You stay here and rest up. I'm going to make sure our horses are fed." Brushing himself off of dirt and dust, he headed back to the wagon.

It saddenned Django to see his closest companion so sad and lonely. While independent, the doctor still needed someone in his life to love. _He's helping me, I'll help him right_ _back_, Django thought to himself. _We'll find your Brunhilde, I promise._


	2. Chapter 2: Shadow

***TWO MONTHS LATER***

"STOP! STOP! STOP!" Django shouted from the back of the wagon. Dr. King Schultz eased his horses to a gentle halt as he turned his head to reply, "What happened?!"

Django jumped off the back of the wagon and ran a couple meters back. "One fell out, it's all good, I've got him." Django heaved and dragged the dead member of the Smitty Bacall gang back into the wagon and whistled loudly, confirming to keep riding.

"We're almost at the sheriff's department, hang in there," King joked with the dead body, causing Django to chuckle as well. "How much you says he's worth?"

"1500 if I recall correctly," King yelled to the back of the wagon.

"Not bad," Django laughed, "Not bad at all!"

When they stopped in front of the sheriff's office, the two men lifted the corpse from the back of the wagon and through the building. The sheriff greeted them with a warm pat on the shoulder and a harsh shake. "What did my two favorite bounty hunters cook me up this time?" His laugh was gruff and booming, yet had the common Texas warmth and twang. "Dr. King, a pleasure as always," he smiled and embraced Schultz with an aggressive handshake, "and Django, how ya doin' son?" he shook his hand as well.

"Mighty fine, sheriff," Django replied. He liked this man; it seemed as if he was one of the only Southern law officials that didn't care much about race.

"My good man, we present to you...Gerald Nash." King tugged the ragged potato-bag off the bounty's head to reveal his bullet-wounded identity. "Well I'll be damned," said the sheriff, "bastard's brains blew right out but it ain't much of a diffference, in'it?" He released another roar of Texan laughter. "What'll it be, 1500?"

"Yes sir!"

The sheriff opened a cabinet behind his desk and from their, opened his safe, counting out the money due.

"I can't thank you two enough, you're makin' my job a hell of a lot easier," the sheriff handed them their money and once more, enthusiastially shook their hands.

"Why of course," Dr. King replied, "only one Smitty Bacall member left!"

"Well actually, Crazy Craig Koons was turned in last week!"

Dr. King was taken aback. "I beg your pardon?"

"Yes sir, turned in with a bullet through the eye and clean through his brain, good chunk his head blown out in the back. Messy, dammit, but the job was done."

"Damn, sheriff!" Django pounded his fist on the desk. "Now that's the fourth time someone's stolen our kill!"

Dr. King shot a dagger-look at Django, one of his many nonverbal ways of telling Django to calm down. "Would you be so kind as to inform us of your new hunter's identity?"

"Goes by Shadow. Wears lots of black. Likes to hang out at our here saloon these days. Listen, boys, I hope I'm not losing y'all's valued business-"

"Relax," King settled everyone down, "our employ to you and to Judge Henry Allen Laudermilk is as much of a value to us as well, my curiosity only got the best of me. Let us know if there are any more men you would care for us to retrieve for you."

Django took note of how quickly and cleanly the doctor could smooth hectic situations over, simply with his peaceful aura and polite vocabulary. Before they left, the sheriff and the men exchanged a quick farewell, and he handed them another handbill. "Where we headed now?" Django asked, "cuz if I was you, I'd be headed to that saloon, give this Shadow a peice of my mind."

"Django," Dr. King said, "we're starting to think so alike that it's scary."

If you could put every saloon in Texas in a line-up, not only would they all be remarkably similar, but this one would blend right in with them. The smell of men young and old either celebrating or drowning their sorrows with the same devil's nectar, the smell of stale cigars, the less-than-favorable characters engaging in a game of pool or poker, the suddle sounds of amourous activity taking place on the second floor, and every hour some drunken fool punches another drunken fool, resulting in both the men being kicked out...only to commence their rough-housing.

The two men took a seat at the bar. "What can I get for ya?" asked the bartender, cleaning out a mug with a rag.

"Two of your finest, and a word of assistance."

"Comin' right up. What can I help ya with? Someone owe ya money?"

"You could say that. I'm looking for a fellow who goes by the name...Shadow?"

The bartender strained his memory, his eyebrows coming closer together. "Hmmmmmm...sorry, I dunno anyone round these parts goes by the name Shadow."

"Try to jog your memory," King stressed as he looked about the room, "a regular here, wears all black-"

"OHHHH! I know who you're talkin' bout! That dark stranger over there, rode into town God knows when. Don't cause no trouble, don't bring no joy neither. Sits back there most the time," the bartender handed them their beers and pointed to the very back dusty corner of the saloon, where a small, dirty window glared dank light on a lone, occupied seat and table. Shadow was all in black, from hat down to boots. He was facing away from King and Django, however.

"Thank you barkeep," the doctor smiled and left his expenses on the counter. Django quickly walked towards Shadow, but King tightly grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back. "After me. Who knows what type of man he could be."

"Goes by the name Shadow, must be pretty strange you ask me," Django muttered below his breath. They approached the table. "Excuse me, if I'm not mistaken you are the bounty hunter who goes by the alias, 'Shadow'?"

"Who's asking?" a muffled voice responded.

"My name is Dr. King Schultz, this is my associate Django Freeman. We too are fellow bounty hunters and would care to discuss a conflict of interest with you. May we sit?"

Shadow pushed out the seat in front of him with his boot, inviting them to join him.

"...Very well," replied Dr. King. He widened his eyes at Django before moving around the table to sit. Django pulled up a chair beside Dr. King to join the conversation.

"What's this conflict of interest?" Shadow inquired behind not only his tilted hat, but a bandana masking his face. He was hard to hear from not only his accessories, but the loud ramblings of the other customers and the music playing throughout the saloon.

Dr King began, "I beg your pardon, I cannot hear you quite clearly, would you mind removing your hat and faceguard? We mean you no trouble, so disguise is unnecessary."

"You said you two were bounty hunters...and you mean me no trouble...correct?"

King nodded slowly, suspicious but anxious to converse with the stranger. Shadow sighed deeply and took off the hat and pulled the bandana down.

Dr. King Schultz had never seen a more beautiful woman in his entire life.

Her large eyes were a peircing green, though the circles below them were quite dark from exhaustion. Her shiny, wavy, auburn hair cascaded down just a bit lower than her shoulders. Her cheekbones lay high, her lips full and pink (slightly chapped from the sun), and her flawless complexion was quite pale and somehow sunkissed at the same time.

"So...what is this conflict of interest you care to discuss?" She sat back casually in her seat, looking the doctor square in the eye, while all he could do was stare. Even her voice sounded angelic to him. And for the first time, Django saw Dr. King at a complete loss for words. He jumped in.

"You've been stealin' our work, that's what-"

"-I'm assuming Shadow isn't your real name?" Dr. King interrupted, mentally kicking himself for asking such a dumb question. A small smile appeared on her face that made King's heart skip a beat. "Uhm...aha...no. It's actually Janie. But, you know how it is. Bounty hunting 'isn't a woman's place' so I hide my identity and go by Shadow. You aren't gonna tell the sheriff now are you?"

Django's eyes widened, "You're damn right that's what we're gonna do!" King laughed, "Excuse my companion, he only jests. Why would we betray a fellow protector of the law?" Janie shot a doubtful look to the doctor. "Relax. Your secret is safe with us."

She let out a brief grin and a heavy, sharp sigh. "Thank God. Normally I'm not such an open book-"

"-I completely understand-"

"-If you two weren't bounty hunters I-"

"-wouldn't have said anything? We have no doubt in your ability to confide your true identity. Please. Relax." Janie took a long swig of beer before continuing. "So what is a doctor such as yourself playing the bounty hunting field for?"

Dr. Schultz copied her action and indulged in his own beer in hopes it would slow his rapid heart rate. He only cringed at how the beer tasted; cheap and flat, nowhere near as delicious as his homeland's brew. "I was a dentist for a long period of time, but eventually the tooth malarkey becomes quite repetitive-"

"-and disgusting I can only imagine," Janie laughed.

_God, her laugh was music._

King, once more, repeated her in a laugh. "Yes, at times. I haven't practiced in about five years, well, soon to be six." He sipped at the foul booze once more. "Bounty hunting is more of my specialty. I take much more pride in my profession now."

Django glanced between the two before contributing. "You should see this man with a gun. Got aim like a...like a...well I don't know but it's pretty damn good. Taught me everything I know." King thanked Django with a smile, and a hint of red in the apples of his cheeks.

"Well, maybe you could teach me a trick or two," Janie's fingertips lightly circled around the mug. "I'd be quite happy to," replied King. "I notice you have quite the Northern accent, I'd say you were from...Connecticut?"

"Yes! How did you know?"

"Aaah, after given time traveling this great land you begin to pick up on a thing or two." They both chuckled.

"Well you don't even sound American! Are you from...?"

"Germany," Schultz filled in.

"Wow. I hear it's beautiful."

_Much like you, _he thought.

"I bet the booze there makes this seem like total shit!"

"Well...not _total _shit." He soon realized he had not been in such a good humor for quite some time. He had always been happy...but this was different. He wasn't aware of his eyes darkening and his face growing more serious as his thoughts ran. _Pace yourself King, don't get carried away. Focus on work and helping Django. Not a woman who you'll never see again. _When he came back in focus, he noticed the same expression on her face as well. Was it possible she was thinking the same thing? His answer was confirmed as she stood up, grabbing her hat.

"I'm sorry about the whole Bacall business. I have a living to make too, and it's always harder when you aren't in a team of two."

King stood abruptly, followed by his companion. "No need for apology. I wish you luck on your future endeavors." His eyes and smile shined with a sad, broken hope.

"And to you." Janie put her hat on and pulled up her bandana before leaving the saloon. A feeling in King's heart was foreign to him. A feeling of loss, missed opportunity, and regret. _You can still catch her- but nothing will happen-well you don't know that- _his mind played a constant game of tug of war with his heart. What brought him to his senses was Django's expression. "King. What the hell?"

The doctor stood wide-eyed and frantic for the first time in a long time. "You're right," he said after a quick thought, "What the hell?" He ran out of the saloon, holding onto his hat. "Janie?" He yelled as he ran down the street. She was headed to her horse when she froze, looking around before approaching Schultz. She looked angry.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? You CANNOT use my real name in public in this town!"

"I'm sorry, my lady, I just...You mentioned an interest in some training. Does the offer still stand?" With slightly shaking hands, the doctor took off his hat and turned it in circles with his fingertips.

She pulled down her bandana. A quiet rose color raced across Janie's cheeks before she looked down, the color fading. "...I'm not saying I need it." There was a brief silence before she looked up, squinting because of the sun. "But I'll meet you here at one o' clock tomorrow." Dr. King's eyebrows raised, yet another smile taking place. "Wunderbar."

She took a few steps back over to her horse before mounting it. "...Wunderbar," she replied. "_Ha! _I like that...I'll see you tomorrow Dr. German." She pulled her bandana back over her face. King raised his hat to his heart and held it there. "Until then," he sighed. She left at a quick trot.

Phased by excitement, a hand gripping onto his shoulder startled him. It was Django. "Had to be her, din'it?" Schultz felt his face grow warm and Django's laughter grew. "Had to be her."

**Well? What do you guys think? Reviews would mean the WORLD to me. Please let me know what you like and what I should work on. MORE COMING SOON! And Candie is just around the corner ;)**


	3. Chapter 3: Blindness

For the fourth time now, Dr. King turned to his right and left in front of the mirror, straightening his grey coat, stroking his handsome beard, and lightly mussing his hair. Django sat in the background shaking his head. "Well hey, at least your new girlfriend's givin' us some time off."

"Ha ha. Whatever would I do without your comic genius." Dr. King turned to his friend and lightly spread out his arms, raising them and lowering them. After a moment of silence in anticipation of feedback, he asked, "Well?" and spun around. "Well, you look the same as you did forty minutes ago. Now can we go?"

"Yes, yes, we don't want to be late-"

"No, _you_ don't wanna be late-"

"Well aren't you coming too?" Schultz grabbed his hat and a bundle of flowers as Django opened the door to their townhouse, the one Judge Henry Allen Laudermilk provided to King for all his hard work.

"'Course I'm comin'-"

"Well it would be rude for you to be late if she was expecting you-"

"Hell she ain't expectin' me, you're the one she was all eyes over. 'Oh, you're from _GERMANY?!_ How romantic-'"

"She did NOT say that-"

Their banter continued all the way over to the saloon. Janie was leaned against a wooden pillar on the porch of the saloon, her hat tipped over her eyes. As soon as he saw her, King stopped in his tracks and looked about nervously, then he slammed the bundle of flowers into Django's chest.

"What the hell are you-"

"Take them, I don't want to seem too forward. They're too much." Dr. Schultz straightened his jacket once more before approaching his new interest.

"Great," Django muttered, examining the bouquet, "I'm the flower girl already and you two ain't even gettin' married yet."

She lit up as soon as she saw him. "I thought you'd never show up," she teased. Normally he could pick up on sarcasm in a split second, but with her, Dr. King was slightly unaware. "Have you been waiting long?" he inquired, a wave of concern sweeping past his gaze. "Not at all," she replied.

"Good. Now, do you have your weapon?"

She pulled out her pistol from its holster. King stepped in closer to her. "May I?" He extended his hand to her, and she gave him the gun. With much concentration, he examined the pistol before returning it. "A simple yet elegant choice. This will be perfect to work with," he assured her. "Now Fräulein, shall we depart?"

The snow was thick on the ground. Django, Dr. King Schultz, and Janie had constructed many snowmen as targets; discussing interests, childhoods, and stories of the hunt as they built.

"Oh my God, my hands are freezing," Janie squeezed her hands together and rubbed them rapidly back and forth. King longed to take them in his and warm them up, kiss them, hold them, but instead he resisted the urge and simply replied, "Well they'll warm up when you start firing, don't worry. Are you ready?" She was distracted, Django was about 50 meters away, twirling his gun and firing accurately through the eyes, nose, and buttons of the snowmen. She turned her head back to Schultz. "You said you taught him everything he knows, right?"

He laughed, "Yes, Fräulein. Don't worry, we have plenty of time for me to teach you."

"Good. I actually rather enjoy your company, Dr. King," she grinned and winked at him. His heart raced again and he simply nodded, flashing a warm smile. "Are you ready?"

After thirty minutes, about seven of their snowmen were blasted; button, carrot, and bottle debris embedded in the snow. "EXCELLENT!" King excitedly clapped. Janie laughed. "Oh my god!" she wiped her forehead, "That was intense!"

Dr. Schultz ran over to the snowman she fired at. "Clean through the nose! That carrot EXPLODED, and look! Look at this! A clean hole straight through the center of his head." Janie jumped up and down, giggling. He turned to face her, glowing with excitement and pride. "Wow." He raised his arms, "I mean...just...wow." She laughed. "Janie, fantastic, what can I say? You're a natural!" Her laughter grew, and she attempted to spin her pistol around like King does with his revolver. However, she fumbled and dropped the gun into the snow. "...We'll work on that," he added. He walked back over to her. As she started to bend down to retrieve her weapon, he stopped her.

"Allow me," he told her. He swooped down and picked up the gun, tenderly placing it in her soft palms. His eyes twinkled as they exchanged a long glance. "Thank you," she said softly and calmly. "Sie sind herzlich willkommen, schön," he responded.

"I'm assuming that means you're welcome, and that you didn't just call me something foul in German?"

"Fear not," he told her, "your assumption is correct."

_Partially. "_Sie sind herzlich willkommen, schön" actually means "you're most welcome, beautiful" in German, but he would make it clear to her soon enough. "Time to practice long range."

Elbows down on the ground, flat on their fronts, they held their rifles. Dr. Schultz provided Janie with one of his favorite rifles, the one he helped Django train with as well. In between shots, they talked.

"I really don't know why I chose bounty hunting but hell-" she fired- "it's pretty enjoyable."

"I would have to agree. Except it's difficult to realize how desensitized you become by taking the lives of others. I don't even remember the first person I killed." He squinted, searching for her shot. "A little higher," he commented.

She shifted position to adjust her aim. "Is that right?" she sounded a bit sad.

"I really don't remember...do you?"

She fired once again before answering, before slowly lowering her eyes into the snowbank below. He could see her breath in the cold as he watched her with a caring gaze. "I was fourteen when aah..." she took a breath, "my father died." There was silence. "He was a good man, but he loved to gamble. One night a man came into our home-" He could see she was struggling. "Fräulein. You don't need to tell me. I'm sorry for your loss." She still looked down, gritting her teeth and nodding slowly. "I really don't know why I'm telling you these things. I mean...in the past-" she fired "-I've just been closed, trying to help or take down others. Now here I am...bitching and moaning about everything in my life."

"A little to the left...and don't worry. I vastly enjoy learning about you."

"And I've only heard a little about you, doctor. Got a girl back home in Germany?"

"No. No wife. No 'girl'." _Did I say that too quickly? Great, King, now she thinks you're overeager. _He summoned a deep breath. "What about you?"

"No. I'm single," she fired again, "Love is blindness."

He watched the shot. A group of ravens panicked and flew away in the distance, somehow trailing an echoing silence. "Did I ever tell you the story of Brunhilde?" Dr. King asked Janie. She shook her head. "Well, Brunhilde was a princess. She was the daughter of Wotan, god of all gods. Anyway her father is really mad at her-" and he told the story for what felt like the hundredth time, ending with "-because Brunhilde's worth it."

Finally, she raised her eyes to meet his, listening intently. He added, "You may call love blindness...but isn't it a reason to open your eyes? To keep searching? And eventually...to keep fighting?" He watched her analyze his words before he stood back up, shaking the snow off his suit. He offered her his hand and said, "I think we've had enough training today. You've performed excellently." She arched her eyebrows and panted out a smile, accepting his hand. She pulled herself up. She expected him to pull his hand away, but rather, he held on, slowly interlacing his fingers between hers. He searched her face for approval of this action. Her remaining smile was his answer, causing him to lovingly tighten his grip.

"Your hands _are _cold," he laughed. "Django!" he whistled. From a distance, Django looked up at them from his own firing range, saw them holding hands, and grinned ear to ear. "We leavin'?" he yelled back, running over to them.

The air was chilled and sweet as they approached the motel where Janie was staying at. Django, out of pure politeness, walked ahead a little, as to not interrupt Dr. King's "goodnight". He wanted them to get together, even if Janie could mean trouble. King had never seemed so happy, and he remembered his promise of helping him find _his_ Brunhilde.

They were still holding hands. She stared down at them. "I think you accomplished quite a bit today," King started. "I must say, I am impressed."

"My long-range could use some improvement."

"Well, if you ever feel inclined to further training-"

"-You'll be the first to know," she filled in. He removed his hat, and just as he was about to move it to his heart, she entangled him in an embrace. With her head below his, she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly. It took him a moment to respond to what had just happened. He gently slid one arm around her, as the other found the small of her back. He used that hand to pull her in tighter, and he rested his head on top of hers. He closed his eyes, feeling her heartbeat. As they slowly pulled from this embrace, he said a final "goodbye," and walked away. However, she remained at the front of the motel, a slight haze of disappointment appeared to be surrounding her. He glanced back as he approached Django, and just as he was about to say something, Django pulled out the flowers that he had been given this morning. They weren't quite as fresh as they looked earlier, but they were still presentable. King hesitated briefly, took them, and walked back over to Janie. She didn't notice him until he was close. "Did you forget something?" she asked with a comedic tone. Stepping in front of her, he handed her the flowers and replied, "Yes."

Before she could thank him for the bouquet, he took her face in his hands and swooped low for a kiss. His heart raced in nervousness and happiness, and his lips gently yet firmly filled in hers. He pulled away, searching her eyes. His hands stayed, holding her beautiful face. She dropped the bouquet and pulled him in again by the long collar of his jacket. Her soft lips warmly conformed to his, and while his left hand stayed on her cheek, his thumb running along her jaw, he moved his right hand to her lower back, pulling her in closer. She moved one hand behind his head, running her hands through his hair, as the other wrapped around his neck. She felt his tongue softly exploring her lower lip, and she opened her mouth a little wider. All he could hear was the sound of them holding each other, breathing heavily, nothing else even mattered to him. When given the chance, he gently bit her lip and pulled it a little. The intensity of their kiss grew, and he could have sworn he heard a quiet, soft moan escape her lips. He smiled.

Slowly, she pulled back. "It's getting dark, you better get home." Still breathing a tad heavy, he nodded. "Yes...yes..." he glanced back at her, and emitted a brief excited laugh, followed by hers. "Wow. Okay. Well...perhaps tomorrow night I could interest you in a drink? Around eight?"

She nodded, "Over there, right?" -she moved her eyes towards of the saloon.

"Sure."

She gave him a final smile, his eyes were twinkling. "Well...goodnight," she sighed.

"Gute Nacht, schöne," he responded, and again in English. "Goodnight, beautiful." He turned on his heel and walked away, back towards his companion. He whistled and twirled his revolver around at a rapid rate. Django tipped his hat to him, and King raised his eyebrows in response. It was all that needed saying.

**Once again, it's growing. Is it too fast or too slow? Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you all!**


	4. Chapter 4: Losing You

**NEW CHAPTER EVERYONE! This one is really gonna set up the main plot. Sorry it won't be as romantic as Chapter 3 but I promise you, cute stuff will happen. Please give me feedback or reviews on what I need to work on. YOU ALL JUST MAKE MY DAY :D *clap clap clap***

When he knocked on the door of the townhouse, he heard Django respond, "It's open." He was sitting at the kitchen table, head in hands, staring at the wood.

"I received a message from our friend in the records," Schultz removed a letter from inside his coat, "confirming the location of Broomhilda." Django shifted nervously in his seat, anxious for the answer. Schultz's concerned appearance seemed to look _through_ Django.

"...It's...It's Candieland, in' it?"

King sighed, "I'm afraid so." He walked over to the counter, pouring both him and Django a glass of whiskey. "Candie will be in the next town over, watching a fight-"

"-a nigger fight," Django added in disgust.

"...yes." King hated the word nigger, only using it when he was undercover. "He will be there tomorrow night. And given our profitable season...we have just enough money for our plan to work. Are you ready?"

"Been ready since it started," replied Django. "You ready?"

"Of course. Time to walk through hellfire." Schultz smiled halfheartedly, subtly avoiding eye contact.

"King. What is it?"

"Nothing, really. Just anticipation I suppose. I'm happy for you Django."

"I'm happy for you too, Dr. Schultz," he smiled and nodded his head slightly in approval. King seemed oblivious. "Happy for me? Whatever about?" Django laughed, "About Janie! I'm glad you finally found yourself your Brunhilde." He sipped his whiskey and slightly cringed, while Dr. King swallowed it down like it was water.

"She's not my Brunhilde, Django," his voice pinged with hurt.

"What do you mean?"

"I _mean _that it's not a...a love connection or what have you. I have a job to focus on as well as the security of you and your wife."

Django's eyebrows raised in a doubtful expression, one that seemed to read _are you kidding me. _"Dr. King, I hate to break it to ya but ever since you met Janie you been all smiles. You talkin 'bout her all the time, y'all got too much in common to blow her off-"

"-You act as if I don't realize that, Django!" As soon as he said it, Dr. King's expression turned to shock. He had always stayed so calm and collected, never really feeling angry. He never yelled at Django, even after the incident at Big Daddy's plantation. However, Django seemed to understand that King wasn't mad at him, but mad at himself.

"Django...I'm so sorry. It's not you, it's this whole "love" malarkey. It's not for me, you see what it does to me?" There was a silence.

"It makes you afraid," replied Django. King waited for further explanation, what Django was saying seemed to make perfect sense. "You afraid of losin' her. Her job's dangerous, plus, when we go to Candie's, who knows if you'll see her again?" King became incredibly quiet and simply took a deep breath. For the first time in his life, he didn't know what to do. "King," Django started, eyes twinkling, "This time, I've got a plan."

He sat at the bar of the saloon, ale in hand, squirming awkwardly in his seat out of anxiety. He always hated waiting. Even in his work, he acted as quickly as possible. He liked to move fast, but with Janie he tried his hardest to slow himself down; sometimes failing at the endeavor. The bell indicating a new customer passing through the door chimed. Sure enough, it was Janie. She was stunning, wearing a corset-fashioned top and a tight jacket. Her pants fit her well without being too tight, and her boots ended just above her shins. Her hair was still worn down effortlessly, and she had a small amount of makeup on- just enough to accentuate her best features. _Hell, _King thought, _what isn't her best feature? _She flashed her white teeth at him in a smile, her green eyes sparkling in the dim lighting. Her body was trim and fit, more so than most women of that time that were her age. She had told him she was 36, but she looked barely over 30. _  
_

As she walked towards him, a couple men whistled at her. Dr. King had the sudden urge to pull out his revolver and teach the men how to shut up, but Janie was just as tough. He saw her reach for her gun in her holster, and the men seemed to turn the other way; clearly intimidated. King chuckled to himself. He stood as she approached him, tenderly holding her arm and kissing her on the cheek. "You look fantastic," he told her. They sat down. He felt jealous eyes throughout the saloon watching him. Dismissing them, he told the bartender to get her a beer. "Thanks," she told him, "God knows I need one."

"Rough day?"

"No," she laughed. "You?"

"Well, it wasn't bad per say-" he took a sip. "I just have a lot on my mind." He felt more aware when he was with her, noting how he talked with his hands quite a bit. "Good lord," he chuckled, "Do I always use my hands this much when I talk?"

Her eyebrows raised, "You do, but I like it. That was random...you must have a lot on your mind. You're all over the place." He nodded. "Wanna talk about it?" she inquired.

"It's a bit heavy, I'll tell you later. Perhaps for now, we can discuss other things," he smiled.

The night grew gradually, but to them it felt quite fast. As people filtered in and out of the saloon, they had laughed, discussed politics and events, found even common interests, and shared thoughts and stories. He felt like he could talk to her for days without end. Losing himself in her voice and somehow hanging on every word she spoke; he was shocked when the bartender announced to his customers he had to close up. "It's only 11 o' clock," King responded.

"Yeah- on a Tuesday night? In this town? Not exactly a hot spot. I'm closin' up early, sorry folks." The few other people in the saloon shuffled out the door, King following behind Janie, his hand lowered on her back, guiding her. He held the wooden half-swing door open for her as she passed through. "Thank you," she told him. He then offered her his arm, and she accepted. "You're such a gentleman," she told him.

"In Germany, the subject of manners is not even an option. Either way, it's only fair for someone as impeccable as yourself to be treated with the highest respect." She blushed for yet another time that evening, and every time Dr. King tried to hide his excited smile.

"How is it that English is your second language and my first and I still can't word things as beautifully as you can?" Janie giggled. "Perhaps I can teach you," replied Schultz. "You've taught me so much as it is, I hope you don't see me as a student and more like a gi..." she stopped herself._  
_

_She was about to say girlfriend, _King thought. _Now is the time._

"My darling, there is something I was hoping to discuss with you before the night was over."

"Oh, of course! What was on your mind?"

"Well it still is on my mind...I know you are quite fearless, so the dark shouldn't bother you. Care to join me in a walk?"

"I would love to," she replied.

Under the gas lit streetlights, they walked down the road as he began to explain to her his plan. "You know my companion and partner-"

"-Django, yeah. He's a good man."

"Indeed he is. I recall him explaining to you how I purchased him in order to locate the Brittle Brothers, and while I do despise slavery, he is still under my control. By law. If it were up to me, he'd be a free man. Anyhow, Django has a wife named Broomhilda."

"Like Brunhilde from the story you told me?"

"Yes, exactly. However, she and Django were sold to different people, and now...well...have you heard of a man named Calvin Candie?"

Janie gasped, horrified. "No. She was sold to him? Christ..."_  
_

_Quite the bright woman, she catches on quick, _thought Schultz. "Unfortunately, yes. However, this winter we came upon quite a bit of cash after much difficult bounty hunting, and now, we have a plan. We're going to pretend to be interested in one of his fighters, proposing an offer so ridiculous he'd be insane to refuse it. Then, at the plantation, I will propose an interest in Broomhilda, hopefully tying her into the deal as well."

She looked worried. "You really think you can pull it off?" They stopped walking.

"I've been a bounty hunter for five years now-"

"ONLY five years. While that is a major credit, Calvin is smart; he won't be fooled easy. And I'm sure he has some sort of right-hand man who will catch on if he doesn't and inform him of your plan."

_How does she know so much about Candie? _he thought. "It's worth the risk. I know if you were a slave, I'd take any risk to free you. If you ask me, any slave owner is morally corrupt, but plantation owners with masses of slaves are horrible, evil men. We need to get her away from him as soon as possible, who knows what has happened to her."

"Yeah...but...she may be working in the house, in which case she is treated with riches and some respect. I mean, she's still a slave... but she may be receiving more treatment than she would if she was free-"

"What are you talking about? Her _husband_ is a freed man, worrying out of his mind about his wife, and you think it would be best for her to stay?"

"She'll just be taken somewhere else-" her voice was a panic.

"Unless we get her to the North, why are you trying to make this seem unjustified? Why are you trying to make me think this is the wrong thing to do?"

"-BECAUSE I CAN'T LOSE YOU!" She paused, her eyes heavy with tears yet to fallen. King stood still, mouth barely open. He didn't know how to respond. "Candie is a brute of a man. If he catches you, which is HIGHLY PROBABLE, he will KILL you. Don't you get it? You're risking your life!" Silent tears streamed down her cheeks. "I know. I know, I'm too attached. I'm sorry, I just-" she quietly swiped a tear away with her fingers in a single, quick motion, "-I just never have felt so much for someone. I've never met someone like you. And if I lose you, I'll just be alone...again." It became clear that she was thinking the exact same thing he had on his mind all day. He took a moment to gather his words carefully.

"...I've gone my whole life, without feeling the need to share it with anyone. I focused on myself, my work, my companions, anything other than love because I never believed in it! When I heard Django's story...it made me believe in love again. However, I felt it was too late for me, so I focused on him and his wife. And then, Fräulein, I met you. You've cast a spell on me I never thought possible. It appears I can't stop thinking about you." He smiled, and interlaced his hand with hers, slowly and tenderly. "All day, my mind was on you. We both know how dangerous bounty hunting can be. The fact that I'm going to see Candie and leaving you has kept me on edge. What if something happened to you? What if I never see you again? But now...now that I think of it, I realize how strong and capable you truly are. And you've been fine without me so far. So it's not that I have any doubt in your abilities... it is only me, caring for you to a point I've never known."

He kissed a tear off her cheek. "I'm not going to leave you, Janice." She smiled, trying to stop the tears. She leaned in and softly kissed him, her hands gently placed on his beard. He had one hand in his lower pocket of his coat, the other holding her around the waist. After a while, she pulled away, lingering for a couple seconds, feeling the warmth of his breath. He placed his chin on top of her head as she rested her head on his chest. Eyes closed, he moved both his hands to hold her back, enjoying the embrace. "What's going to happen to us, Dr. King?" she asked.

He smiled. "My friend Django has a plan."

**AND SO IT HAPPENS. Janice will soon be entangled in the great heist. HOW? Stay tuned. And for those of you with a sweet tooth, hang in there. Candie's coming. xoxox REVIEWS MUCH APPRECIATED, they really motivate me to continue the story.**


	5. Chapter 5: Don't Speak French

**I just want to apologize in advance for my absence. Things have been going on that I've needed to give my full attention, but it's getting better. Anyways. On with the story c:**

Django answered the firm knock on the door. It was, of course, Janie. "Her girl," he told her with a smile and let her into the townhouse. "Hey Django," she responded. "How are you? Nervous?" Django shrugged his shoulders. "Not really, King got it all under control. I just hate havin' to be a black slaver. That's pretty fuckin' low."

"If you ask me, any slaver is fucking low," she nodded, then gave him a deep look. "We're going to get your wife back, Django. Don't worry." She placed a reassuring hand on his arm, and his expression read _thank you. _"Is King here?" she asked. A voice responded, "Back here! Would you mind assisting me with something?"

"Of course not," she hollered back. "I'll be right back," she told Django, and headed to the back bedroom. King was intently staring into the mirror, adjusting his bow tie. "It's the simplest thing and yet I can't seem to..." his words became lost as he focused more intently. He was only pretending of course, only creating an excuse to be closer to Janie. "Let me help you," she giggled. He turned to face her, and immediately took a sharp inhalation. He was stunned. She had her hair curled and was wearing a beautiful black dress; one that seemed to heave up her bosom and frame tight on her flat stomach. The bottom was layered and puffy, yet elegant. When she noticed him admiring her, she blushed and swayed to the side. Cynically, she slightly raised the top layer of her dress and lowered it, commenting, "It's too fancy. God I hate dresses." He still stared, his eyes shimmering, and his jaw clenched in a microscopic grin. "...What?" She was slightly flattered but seemed defensive, as she felt uncomfortable with such feminine attributes.

King began, "Fräulein...As I look at you now, I see all the passions you inspire are completely justified."

She avoided his gaze, afraid they would invoke too many emotions. Her breathing was heavy and she clearly didn't know what to say. "Here, let me help you with your tie..." She approached him and her slender, skilled fingers began to work. The whole time, he still remained staring at her. Gently, she pulled the tie together, and finished it with a swift pat to flatten it down. "There," she started, but Dr. King delicately grabbed her hands and pulled them close to his chest as he quickly leaned in to kiss her. His kiss was tender and sweet, yet she could somehow feel the emotion he was holding back. Her lips felt soft, yet the warmth was provided only by the fact he had flattered her so greatly. As he pulled away, he lowered their joined hands, and stroked hers with his thumbs. "Thank you," he smiled at her, referring back to the tie. She laughed, throwing her head back, and he laughed as well, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. She nested her head in his shoulder, and he leaned his against her temple.

"Are you going to be okay? With all this?" he asked her, the embrace remaining.

"Me? Of course."

"I know it's hard, I know it's dangerous, especially since you aren't using your own disguise-"

"-Hey," she pulled away, looking at him. "It had to be done, alright? This is the easiest possible solution and you have it all under control _wunderbar_lly." He chuckled at how she slurred the German word with an English suffix. "And you look rather handsome, as always," she added, mousing her hands through his hair. "You ready?"

"Yes," he said excitedly and led her out of the room. "Django, are you ready?" Django responded by standing up and tilting his hat.

"Now keep in mind...this fight may be intense, but-"

"-Don't break character. Got it." They headed out the door to Candie's mandingo fight.

A valet pulled their horses up for them and escorted them out of the carrier to be greeted by Moguy, Candie's lawyer. "Good evening!" he greeted all of them in a thick Southern droll. "Dr. King, Django...now I wasn't expecting this one, who is _she?" _he raised his eyebrows flirtatiously, taking Janie's hand and kissing it. "Aaah, yes-" King kicked in, "This is my _lovely _girlfriend, Janie Ellwood." He could have sworn Moguy shot him a dirty look when he started, "Miss Ellwood, the pleasure is mine."

"It's a pleasure meeting you too," Janie swallowed a grimace. Moguy smiled and held out his arm, "Allow me to escort you insi-"

Dr. King wrapped his arm around hers, cutting him off. "We would appreciate that sir, thank you," his smile was large. Moguy glared. "Follow me." Led up the staircase, Moguy began to talk without end. "Calvin and I were about eleven when we went to boarding school together. One could almost say, I was raised to be Calvin's lawyer."

"One could almost say, you a nigga," Django retorted. Janie emitted a loud _ha! _and quickly bit her lip, holding back the rest. Moguy whipped his head back to Django, and King widened his eyes in a warning to Django. "What did you say?" Moguy asked. "Oh nothing, he's just being cheeky. Anything else about Mr. Candie we should know before we meet him?"

"Yeah, he's a bit of a Francophile."

"What civilized people aren't?" Janie inquired. "That's why there's all this here French ambiance," Moguy added, "And he prefers Monsieur Candie to Mr. Candie."

"Ahh, je vois, comment sophistiqué," said Janie, followed by Dr. King, "Quoi qu'il préfère-"

"-He doesn't speak French, don't speak French to him, it'll embarrass him." They entered the room, Janie's arm tightening around King's. _Now she's nervous? How odd,_ thought King. Immediately they heard groaning and punching, along with shouting from the owners of the fighters. "COME ON, GET UP BOY!" Candie was clapping and hollering loudly. Without turning around, he asked Dr. King, "Why you wanna get in the mandingo business?" King, portraying a fancy slave owner, acts insulted and says, "You don't intend to allow your 2nd to make the proper introductions?" Again, Candie kept his eyes on the fight, "Quit stallin' and answer the question."

Dr. King thought. "The awful truth? ...I'm bored. And it seems like a good bit of fun."

Candie turned to them, smirking. "Well come on over, we got a fight goin' on that's a good bit of fun!" Immediately after saying this, Candie nodded and smiled at Dr. King, then his eyes widened at the sight of Janie. His mouth hung open, almost as if he was in shock. He blinked rapidly. "Uhh..." he shook his head quickly, as if trying to clear his head.

"Stunning, isn't she?" King laughed. "Allow me to introduce you two. This is my _wunderbar_ lady, Janie Ellwood. Janie, this is Monsieur Calvin Candie, prestigious millionaire, plantation owner, and slaver." He looked at Janie, who was staring back at Candie with the same wide-eyed, shocked expression. "H-have you two met before?"

"No." Janie stated. "Nice to meet you, Monsieur Candie." Candie slightly flared his nostrils, clenching his jaw. "The pleasure's mine." Django and King exchanged a confused glance before he stepped towards the fight. The good doctor had schooled Django on the importance of never breaking character, and now he had to practice what he preached; not only having to watch the savage fight, but appear to enjoy it as well. Calvin began, "The bigger nigger's mine, just bought him today. What's his name, Moguy?"

"Big Fred."

"The other nigger belongs to this disreputable Italian gentlemen to my right. Amerigo Vassepi, now what's your nigger's name?" he asked Vassepi.

"Luigi...?"

Candie nodded and looked over to Django, who was at the bar rather than watching the two men fight to the death. "How bout you, boy? You find nigger fightin' a good bit o' fun?"

Django swallowed his beverage and responded, "You seen one nigger fight, you seem 'em all."

The vicious fight only became more intense. Janie held tightly onto King in horror, her face reading no disgust at all. King's eyes read disgust, while he tried to smile like he was enjoying it. Out of Candie's vision, he held onto Janie's hand, comforting both of them. When Candie threw the hammer on the floor by Big Fred, Janie used her other hand to hold onto King, as if she was about to faint. He wrapped his arm around her waist, supporting her, and let her lean against him. "Miss Ellwood. You don't need to see this, have yourself a seat by Sheba," Calvin waved his hand over to the couch his African American lover was sitting on. Sheba scooted over and patted a place next to her, an invite. King wanted to walk her over to the seat in case she passed out, but she didn't let him. Meanwhile, King watched as Big Fred beat the hammer into Luigi's skull.

"Arrivederci, Luigi!" Candie hollered, "Well, Mr. Vassepi, looks like ya owe me ten dollars." King yelled internally. _TEN DOLLARS?! TEN DOLLARS? TEN DOLLARS FOR A MAN'S LIFE? _He breathed deeply as Candie requested four Polynesian Pearl Divers. Django loved the coconut drink, while King and Janice cringed at it. Calvin then turned his attention to Django. "What's your name, boy?"

"His name is Django," Janie said, standing from the couch and making her way towards the bar. Calvin looked angry, as if Janie made him mad. "Where'd ya dig him up?" Candie asked Schultz. "A fortuitous turn of events brought Django and myself together," he replied. Candie went back to Django. "I've heard tell about you. I heard you're a real bright boy." He paused. "I'm curious, what makes you such a mandingo expert?"

Django turned around and stared straight into Calvin's blue eyes, wanting right then and there to kill him. "I'm curious what makes you so curious."

King interjected, "Monsieur Candie, I would appreciate it if you directed your line of inquiry to me." Calvin replied, "Doc, I'm a seasoned slaver, you are a neophyte. I'm simply trying to ascertain if this cowboy is taking advantage of you."

Dr. King took an obvious breath. "With all due respect, Monsieur Candie, I didn't seek you out for your advice. I sought you out to purchase a fighting nigger at above top dollar market price. I was under the impression when you granted me an audience, it would be to discuss business."

"No, we weren't talking business yet. We were discussing my curiosity." He glanced at Janie, locking eye contact, and looking away. "Now according to Moguy here, if I do business with you, I'm doin' business with both of y'all." He pointed to both King and Django. "He does the eyeballin', you the billfold?"

King shrugged, "Well you don't make it sound too flattering, but more or less, yes." It was obvious that none of the white men in the room had any respect for a white man who needed a black man to tell him the time of day. Candie shifted his attention to Janie. "You're beau over here, takin' orders from a nigger? You call him your man?" He laughed. King was glaring, she could see a rage building in him. Janie looked at Candie dead in the eye and told him, "Il est l'homme le plus fantastique au monde. Tout le contraire de vous." She looked back to King and smiled. He translated in his mind, "He is the most fantastic man in the world. The complete opposite of you," and smiled back at Janie. She seemed to take all his anger away. Candie, unable to translate, noticed their interaction and his face became red in embarrassment and anger. King jumped in, calmed down, continuing the negotiation.

"You won't sell your best. You won't sell your second best. But your _third _best? You don't want to sell him...but if I make you an offer so ridiculous you'd be forced to consider it? Who knows what could happen?" Calvin thought it over. "Well what do you consider to be ridiculous?"

"For a truly talented specimen...the "right nigger"? How much would you say Django?"

Django looked at his drink and already knew what he was going to say, pausing only to make it look like he was thinking. "Twelve thousand dollars."

Candie's eyes instantly lit up. "Gentlemen, you had my curiosity. Now you have my attention."

On the way home, King had one arm around Janie. "You're awfully quiet, is something on your mind?" His words were more caring around her. Django turned his head from the window and to Janie, who was sitting in the middle of them in the carriage. "I just...I don't know if I can do this. That fight was traumatizing...it's bound to get worse. Calvin is a horrible, horrible man. And...I don't know if I can do this without wanting to kill him."

"I certainly didn't care for him either, but we have to do this Janie, for Django. I told you there was no backing out when you're in."

"I'm not backing out, don't worry. I'm just...upset. That's all."

"He definitely has the eyes for you," Django said. "I noticed that," King added.

Janie looked out the window immediately out of frustration.

And King could only wander what she was hiding.


	6. Chapter 6: Take Care of You

**TIME FOR THE RATING TO CHANGE. JUST SAYIN' IF YOU DON'T WANNA READ A "RATED M STORY" HERE IS THE END OF THE ROAD FOR YOU.**

The moon was the only thing casting light when they finally arrived back to the townhouse. "I'll see you tomorrow?" Janie asked with a half-smile, and King planted a brief kiss on her cheek. Stepping down from the carriage, he tipped his hat and added, "Get home safely, Fräulein."

"Woah, woah," the carriage driver told them. "This is my last stop for the night!"

Janie replied, "Well, I'm only staying less than 10 minutes away from he-"

"I don't care if you're stayin' a minute away, I got a wife and chil'ren to take care of!" Janie's eyebrows raised, expressing she wasn't too thrilled by the driver's tone. King jumped in, "Janie, you could always stay the night with us. You may even find it more convenient. Tomorrow we can go retrieve whatever you are wearing to Candie's."

"Oh, that's very sweet," she said while accepting the hand he offered to help her down from the carriage. The driver made no hesitation in leaving the second she got out. "However, I don't want to burden you or Django. I'll just walk home or something-"

"Now you really think I would let you walk home _alone _in pitch black? Come along darling, it's no burden whatsoever. You are staying with us." He casually held one arm around her, leading her into the townhouse.

The townhouse was still lit with candles and gas lights when they entered. "Django, did you leave these lights on?" Dr. King inquired.

"Yeah, you said it'd be late when we got back."

"Well the place could have burned down! You can't leave these lights on when we aren't here," King calmly taught Django. "Go ahead and sit down on the couch, I will fix the three of us a little beverage."

Janie followed Django to the couch, saying, "I hope it'll be better than that Polynesian whatever-the-hell Candie served us." She cringed. "The man's name is Candie, it figures he likes everything sweet." Django chuckled. After a brief moment, King returned, carefully managing to hold three whiskeys at one time. "It may be a bit strong for this hour," King handed them their drinks, "so sip slowly." He sat in the armchair next to the couch before taking a swig of his own.

"So," he began, "tomorrow. We need to discuss an interest in which man we care to purchase, the obvious purpose being for fighting. I'll make a request for Broomhilda to visit my room, at which point Django will come out. During this time, Janie, you will play as a distraction to Candie and his associates. This may prove difficult, but given your charm and great conversational ability...I have no doubt you will succeed. Afterwards, at dinner, we will 'purchase' his third best mandingo...what did he say his name was again?"

"Eskimo Joe."

"Yes, thank you Django, we will pretend to purchase Eskimo Joe, and as the night progresses, purchase your beloved. We can pay for _her _the night we are there, since...well, no offense intended my dear friend but I doubt Candie will request much pay for her, especially given the fact he will believe we are returning to pay 12,000 for Eskimo Joe." He let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes. "I think...it will work." He searched the room for feedback.

"I don' see why not," Django replied.

"Yeah," Janie added. Everything about her read that she was prepared, but her eyes seemed to spin a different tale. King could spot a glimmer of fear in them. "...You said you didn't know Candie, correct?" he inquired once more.

"I don't." She swallowed down whiskey.

"Then why are you so scared of him? After all, he is only a weak man-"

"Would a weak man throw a hammer on the floor and watch one man beat another, then celebrate? Big Fred was a man Candie obviously had no opinion of. If he has anything against one of us, imagine what he'll do."

King asked, "Why would he have anything against us if everything goes right?"

"Even if everything does go right on our part, have you ever thought he may be able to see through it?" She let a frustrated breath surge out from her lips before standing up and excusing herself from the room. When she was out of earshot, Django leaned in to tell Dr. King, "Can we trust her?"

King looked shocked. "Well, of course we can Django! She's obviously just scared-"

"A person who kill people for a livin' shouldn't be scared of death."

King let Django's words echo in his mind. "It doesn't mean they should embrace it either. I watched that fight today, in...complete horror and disgust. It was savage, it-it was _barbaric. _And I've killed many, many people as you know. People perceive things in many a different way. What causes one man grief may cause another fear." King finished his drink before standing up. "Don't worry, Django. After all, she did fine today, didn't she?"

Django nodded. "Yeah. She did. Guess I don't got nothin' to worry about."

"Exactly. Now I think what we all need is a good night's rest to put our minds at ease."

"You may be right, doc. Janie can take my room, I'll sleep right out here on the couch."

"That's very generous of you, Django. Have a solid sleep. Tomorrow, we'll have your wife back." At this, Django replied only with a grin, pinching out a candle with his bare fingers before moving onto his back and closing his eyes.

King wrapped on the door to his room quietly, his girlfriend answered. "Hey," she told him. She had unpinned her hair from it's curls. It looked like she had cried a little, but King couldn't tell. Perhaps it was just her tired eyes. "May I come in?" She widened the door for him to enter, and he closed it behind him. "Janie, I'm sorry-"

"No, you don't need to apologize. I'm sorry, ya know? I should be used to all this killing-"

"It's different when it's intention is entertainment, not justice."

She paused. "Yeah. That's true I suppose. Just ever since this whole Candie business, I've been more emotional."

"Have you considered it may be due to the fast that you've gone...your whole life? Dealing with other people's emotions and never your own? And now that you're in such an intense position, where you have to witness unjust fatalities yet again...years and years of emotions are finally coming out?"

She laughed. King smiled, "What?" he asked. "Nothing, I mean that's definitely true. I just thought you were a dentist not a psychiatrist." She giggled again. "I just am sick of always feeling so...emotional, you know? That's not who I am."

"You don't need to explain. I know you aren't like most girls, I know." He paused. "Perhaps, you'd feel a bit better if for once in your life, you let someone take care of _you_." They locked eye contact. She shifted, not out of being uncomfortable, but out of tension. "If you want to take care of me, you should help me come up with something to sleep in. Because this-" she fidgeted with her dress- "isn't going to work." He laughed, walking over to his dresser. "It's a shame. You look lovely." He pulled out a button-down shirt of his. "It may be a bit large, but will this work?"

"Hell, anything's better than this." She extended her hands for him to throw it over, and she caught it. "I'll be right back." She left to the restroom to change and he laid back on the foot of his bed, moving his hands through his hair and through his beard slowly. He closed his eyes in deep thought, and seemed to snap out of it when he heard, "Okay you can't be rude, it's your fault you didn't give me pants." She didn't even stop to let him look at her, she instead continued to hang up her dress on one of the hangers from King's closet. He propped himself up with his hands. Her hair tumbled down her back, and his grey shirt ended just above her thighs, revealing just a hint of her black lace underwear. After hanging up her dress, she turned to look at him ogling at her. "You didn't give me pants okay?!" she tried, adjusting the long sleeves to be shorter.

"That may have been the best decision I have made all evening," he joked. She slapped him playfully before sitting next to him at the foot of the bed. "So...goodnight? I guess-"

"Oh, goodnight already?" he asked her, suddenly more awake.

"I figured you'd want me to sleep in Django's room?"

"Well...I mean you don't have to leave now, do you? Are you tired?"

"No," she told him. "...are you?"

"No." He swept a strand of hair behind her shoulder and slowly kissed her. She tasted like mint and whiskey, a flavor he imagined would only taste good on her. Her hands explored down his beard to his chest, lightly running her hands across it. With an insane combination of swift confidence and nervous shakiness, his hands explored from her knee up her soft legs, her skin warm to the touch and glowing. His fingers were firm, but he moved them tenderly as he reached her. Slowly but dramatically, he began to rub. He smiled during the kiss as she emitted a slight moan. He intensified his actions, feeling both of them grow warm.

Unexpectedly, she rolled one leg on top of him, straddling him and kissing him more aggressive before pushing his back onto the bed. He felt his breathing become heavy as she kissed down his neck, unbuttoning his shirt and following it down with her tongue. When she reached lower buttons on his shirt, she returned back up, hovering over him as he slowly unbuttoned her shirt. He sat himself up and wrapped one hand around her neck gently, while the other lightly sucked on her neck. He lightly slid the shirt off of her body and heard her lowly laugh, "Well that didn't stay on long."

He let out a laugh as well as continued kissing her neck, a laugh that somewhat resembled a moan of his own. He laid back for only a moment as he watched her remove her bra. He had lust shining through his vivid eyes. She bit her lip as she removed it and lightly threw it off the bed. Immediately, he rolled on top of her, caressing her breasts as their fiery kiss grew in intensity. He felt her hands removing his belt and untucking his shirt, then unbuttoning his pants. Effortlessly, he slipped out of them. With focused hands, he removed her underwear before planting his hands firmly on the bed, hovering over her. "Are you sure?" he asked her. She rolled her eyes and responded by pulling him into a kiss, his toned abdomen against her own; the dusting of chest hair tickling her breasts.

King entered her slowly, yet it was shocking enough for her. She had no idea he was so well hung. Her mouth hung open and she closed her eyes. He increased his depth and speed, their hips working in tandem. She gripped the pillow behind her for support for a second before pulling him back into a kiss that she moaned through. His beard tickled her face, then her neck as he moved down once again, still thrusting wildly. He started to moan too.

It was like this for a while, changing speeds and intensities, kissing and moaning, and after a considerably lengthy amount of time, they both came. Her moan wasn't quite a scream, it was only quite loud and high-pitched, she covered her mouth with her hand, but he moved it away, pinning it down on the bed and kissing her to muffle her voice. With a powerful heave, he moaned her name as he came too. He was still inside her, breathing deeply and staring down at her, then gently pulling out. Janie covered her top with the bedsheets, and King pulled the covers onto himself, rolling onto his back. They were both breathing heavy, smiles spreading on their face. They looked at each other, and didn't even need to say any words. It was apparent it was what they both needed, and it couldn't have helped them any better. He slowly moved one arm around her as she scooted in closer, planting her head under his chin. He kissed her on the forehead, and there they lay, holding each other, falling asleep in the comfort of each other's consoling arms, until the sun woke up.

That morning, Django was already awake. He tipped his hat to Janie as she left for the door, wearing the dress from the night before. "See ya in a few," Django sent her off kindly, a strange smirk on his face. "See ya in a few," Janie responded with the same expression before turning to Dr. King.

"Get back quickly," he told her. She giggled, "I'll try-"

He pulled her into a brief yet passionate kiss, biting her lip gently before pulling away. He felt that his joyous emotions were far too apparent when his cheeks reddened and his grin extended. "Get home safely, Fräulein." She returned the smile, their glances locking. Every time their eyes met, they seemed to have a battle of who's color was the most vivid, and who would get lost in the other's first. Both seemed to win.

She shut the door as she left. Dr. King whistled as he walked into the small kitchen to join Django. "Good morning, dear Django!"

Silence.

_Hmm... _"Are you excited to retrieve your wife?"

Silence. Again.

"...Django...you're awfully quiet-"

"So I offered Janie my bed," he started. Dr. King swallowed down a nervous gulp. "Yes, yes you did how generou-"

" Bed was still made this morning...before both y'all woke up." Django turned to face King's wide-eyed expression before letting out a hearty laugh and slapping him on the shoulder. "Doc," he said through his continuing laughter, "If we die at Candieland today, you'll die a happy man!"

**Yeah...maybe it was too intense but oh well screw it. Anyways I hope you enjoyed. It may be one of the last happy moments, depending on the direction I want to go with the story...Please post reviews or follow or favorite, anything you guys do really brings up my motivation to continue the story. It wouldn't exist without the few people I have who seem to enjoy it xD So your continued support means a lot. **


	7. Chapter 7: Flesh and Bone

**EVERYONE I AM OUT OF MY SLUMP. I am back and apologize for the long-ass break. I want to thank Dakota for helping me feel a lot better and keeping me going with my ideas. YOU SHOULD GO READ HER STORIES. ON TO THE STORY.**

Django stood by Dr. King as they waited for Calvin and his entourage to pick them up. Dr. King's fingers were entwined with Janie's, who was wearing a laced corset-top dress that flowed out to the bottom in streams of navy blue satin. She shifted her weight on one leg and sighed heavily. "It's at least 100 degrees out. I hate this dress." Dr. King bowed his head and hid his smirk. "You look ravishing, Fräulein," he replied, then kissing her lightly on the temple. His beard lightly tickled her face.

Candie's carriage and his henchmen approached the three bounty hunters at a decelerating trot. "Why hello, Docta and company!" Candie yelled from the cart. When they slowed to a stop, Candie jumped out and approached them. "Dr. King, how are you?" he asked, lightly grabbing the doctor's shoulder in a friendly manner. "Quite well, Monsieur Candie, and looking forward to selecting one of your fine fighters."

"Well, I assure you Doctor, that it won't be hard at all, in fact-" Calvin tapped his fingers against his heart with a roll of his wrist, "-I am mighty proud to have the _best _nigger fighters in all the south, let alone Mississippi. I guarantee it, now go on over and sit yourself down in the carriage." Dr. King smiled widely and led Janie to the carriage, still holding hands. However, as they started off together, Candie interrupted, "Oh and where are my manners? Lady Ellwood. You couldn't look more beautiful." Locking eye contact, Calvin took her hand and lowered his head to where his lips met it. Lingering as he kissed her hand, Janie's jaw clenched as she replied, "Monsieur Candie. You are too kind." Candie, raising to his original posture, shot a glare at her, hiding it with a cheeky smile before turning to Django. "Django Freeman, now we got you a horse to ride, I hope you don't mind that you won't be joining us in the cart?"

Django stared intensely at Calvin, rage building inside of him. He didn't mind not riding with him, in fact he thought it best, considering how badly he itched to pummel the man right there where he stood; to kill him violently for what he did to his wife. "Not at all Monsieur Candie. In fact, someone's gotta keep an eye on all these niggers." Django then shot a dirty look at all his henchmen, implicating that they didn't do their job very well. Calvin threw his head back in a wild cackle. "Oh Django, you are quite the fire cracker, ain't ya? I guess that would be best, if you watch over them. And I ain't even talkin' bout the niggers!" He laughed again, "Go on back now."

Dr. King helped Janie into the carriage while Calvin held his hand behind her, not really helping but providing the appearance of assistance. King hopped up effortlessly behind her, sitting down and moving his arm behind her, holding her. Calvin yelled, "Roll out!" directing the stagecoach to start riding. Calvin sat right in front of Janie, moving his feet out to hers and once again, staring at her with a wild gaze before moving the conversation to Dr. King.

After a long day of riding, they approached a shack that seemed packed with redneck hillbillies. "Slow down here!" Candie yelled, standing when his command was followed. "Well I'll be, D'Artagnan! Now boy, why do a fool thing like run off?" He was acknowledging a mandigo fighter of his who apparently attempted to escape while Candie was absent. Everyone's attention was drawn to Candie and the man.

"I can't fight no more," D'Artagnan replied, out of breath and upset.

"Oh yes you can! You might not be able to win, but your ass can fight...Mr. Stonesipher, shut these goddamn dogs up, I can't hear myself think!"

One hillbilly did as he was told, and the dogs were silenced. Candie then turned his attention to Mr. Stonesipher, asking, "How long was he loose?"

"A night. Day. Half the other night."

"How far he get off the property?"

Stonesipher spit, "Bout twenty miles off prop. Pretty far, givin' the limp he got." Spit.

Dr. King had a hard time understanding the man's thick Southern accent, but given the looks of the rest of his company, he could tell he wasn't alone in his confusion. "Moguy," Calvin turned to his right hand man, "Moguy, who was D'Artagnan s'posed to fight Friday?"

Moguy, pointing behind him to the other mandingos said, "One of this new lot."

"Well, the way he look now a blind Indian wouldn't bet a bead on 'em!" He laughed. Back to D'Artagnan. "Boy. You done made yourself as useless as a tail on a teddy bear." The scared mandingo fighter began to sob as Calvin came even closer and crouched down, face to face with the man. "Now now, no beggin', no playin' on my soft heart. You in trouble now, son. Now you need to understand I'm runnin' a business. Now I done paid. five hundred dollars for you. And when I pay_ five hundred dollars, _I expect to get five fights outta a nigger 'fore he roll over and play dead. Now, you've fought three fights."

"I won every one!"

"Well yes you did, but that last one, you muddied the line between winnin' and losin'." Calvin took a deep breath before continuing. "But the fact remains, I pay five hundred dollars, I want five fights. So what about my five hundred dollars? You gonna reimburse me?" Laughter filled the air, and Dr. King looked around, startled by the sudden eruption of celebration. The corner of Janie's nose twitched, like a muscle spasm caused by her disgust and anger for the actions transpiring. The whole spectacle made both of them sick to their stomachs. Django, however, kept a straight face. Obviously, it's nothing he hadn't seen before, and that saddened the couple.

"You even know what reimburse means?" Calvin continues taunting the poor man. Laughter continues, in a mightier roar. King stood up, held back by Janie. "King, what are you-" she whispered.

"I'll reimburse you!"

Silence. All eyes turned to Dr. King. Calvin, shocked, turned dramatically to face the German doctor. "You will?"

King began removing his billfold from his coat pocket, "Yes."

"No he won't." Janie's voice cut through the Mississippi heat. All eyes were turned to him now. "He's just tired of you toying with him is all. And for that matter, so am I." Django followed her lead, "We ain't payin' for that pickaninny, we ain't got no use for 'em. Ain't that right Doc?"

Dr. Schultz stood slightly stunned, realizing he just did the one thing he always preached against: breaking character. He put the billfold back in his jacket. "You heard him," he said as he sat back down, immediately clung to by Janie. She comforted his anger and soothed his rapid heart with every stroke of her hand down his arm. However, the attention was still on Django. The hillbilly gang stood, jaws to the floor. One even stopped chopping wood to witness the spectacle before him.

"You'll have to excuse Mr. Stonesipher's slack-jawed gaze," Candie began, "He ain't ever seen a nigger like you in his life...ain't that right Stonesipher?"

Spit. "That right."

Calvin began challenging Django, glaring at him and shifting his attitude. "Well now. Since you won't pay a penny for this pickaninny, you won't mind me handlin' this nigger however I see fit?"

Django, cooly and without any concern, replied, "He's your nigga."

Calvin took a moment of silence before demanding, "Mr. Stonesipher...let Marsha and her bitches send D'Artagnan to nigger heaven."

Almost in slow motion, Dr. King saw the hick yell, "Marsha, git 'em!" as the other hunters sent their dogs running to the man. They walked towards him, readying their weapons of choice. Immediately sinking their teeth into his dark flesh, they pulled and pink meat was ripped from the man's bones, blood spilling out and purple, blue veins protruding from the wounds. Dark liquid flooded the ground and stained the teeth of the beasts as the man screamed in agony, too weak to defend himself however hard he tried. He was helpless. And they watched.

Janie's face shot pale. King took her face and buried it in his shoulder, holding her gently. "Don't look, my darling. Don't look." His firm, slightly callused, yet warm hands stroked the back of her head as he whispered "shhh," and "it's okay." He didn't feel tears on his jacket, not only because she could keep character, but because much like him she was too horrified to cry.

He felt rage. He felt disgust. He felt sorrow. His stomach churned as he swallowed back his anger. And once again, he found himself watching, unable to save the poor, innocent, mistreated man. At this point, D'Artagnan's left leg was reduced to shreds and bone, his right arm behind gnawed on and another dog creating a crater in his torso. His left arm and his right leg were being pulled on so aggressively that you could hear the rips in his muscle tissue and flesh. Brown fluid leaked as blue/purple organs revealed themselves to the sun. More screams. More cries. No hope.

Calvin kept his eyes on Django, as if they were competing in a staring contest. "Miss Ellwood, please don't look, a woman as dignified as yourself shouldn't have to see this," he said before turning his head briefly to the woman and the doctor. He found her already turned, but King was in a pale, shocked state. Back to Django. "Your boss looks a little green around the gills for a blood sport such as nigger fightin'?"

"Naw. He just ain't used to seein' a man ripped apart by dogs is all."

"But you used to it?"

"Well. Him bein' German and all, I'm a little more used to American's than he is. Now...Monsieur Candie. Whenever you're ready, we rode five hours so you could show off your stock. Let's get to it. 'Cause as of now, if he an example, I ain't impressed."

Finally, Calvin blinked. "Follow me," he started before heading back to the carriage, hopping in as if a horrible death didn't just transpire. They rode off as if nothing had happened at all.

Time passed. "We're almost there," Candie said, staring at Janie. She was looking out of the cart, Dr. King's arm wrapped around her as he innocently admired the view around them. Calvin tried to summon what to say as she clearly avoided his presence. "Miss Ellwood, I do apologize for the sight you had to bear witness to back at the-"

"-It's fine."

"No, it isn't and I do apologize." Calvin had leaned forward and placed his hand lightly on her knee, over the dress.

Simultaneously, Janie said, "You already apologized, it's okay." and Dr. King coughed loudly to show his discomfort for Calvin's actions. Calvin quickly realized he had overstepped his bounds, but slowly removed his hand. "Dr. King, I assure you my selection is much finer than that fool, D'Artagnan."

"I was also assured that you selected the finest. If he was such a fool, why did you hire him."

"Well...you never know with these niggers these days," Calvin laughed good-naturedly. King did not reciprocate. "I guess not." Calvin gulped down the hostility in hopes of the money, and in an attempt to patch things up between the two of them, Billy Crash interrupted them. "Calvin! Where you want us to send these here niggers?"

Calvin turned, realizing they were at the big house already. "Send em to the warehouse and get 'em set up with the equipment!" Calvin then turned to Janie and Dr. Schultz. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Candieland."

**IT'S ABOUT TO GET CRAYFISH UP IN HERE. STAY TUNED. I LOVE YOU ALL WITH A PASSION**


	8. Chapter 8: Candieland

**Disclaimer: The only character I own is Janie Ellwood. All other characters were created by the great Quentin Tarantino who forever has my respect.**

She wanted to run out to the woman in agony being dragged out of the hot box. She wanted so badly to shoot everyone in charge and wipe the woman's tears away and tell her that for once, things will be okay. If she had never met this woman before and felt all these things, she could only imagine how Django was feeling. She looked at him as he watched his naked, screaming wife being manhandled by these horrible men, her skin clearly searing in heat and blisters. Django's eyes were the only thing breaking character, and she touched his arm lightly as he started to put his hand on his pistol. He received the message and looked away from Hilde, removing his grip from the weapon.

"Now Stephen, why don't you go set up three of our finest rooms for our guests of the evening?" Calvin inquired. "And I don't wanna hear any more lip about a nigger in the big house, you hear me?" Stephen muttered angrily as he trudged into the house, a faint yelling at other slaves to help him get the rooms ready. Calvin turned his attention back to Dr. Schultz and said, "We'll have her cleaned up and sent up to your room in about an hour and a half. Now go on inside, Stephen will show y'all up." They all headed inside the house. "Dinner's cookin' up right now by the smell of it," Calvin walked behind them as the door was closed by one dark-skinned woman.

"Wunderbar," Dr. King replied joyously, "I'm starving." From the floor above them, they heard Stephen yelling at yet another slave before slamming a door and hobbling over to the rail overlooking the stairs. "Y'all's rooms ready, come on up. I'll give ya the lay of the land." Calvin smiled at his cheekiness before directing them upstairs, retreating with Moguy into his office.

"Miss Ellwood, your room right here on the left, Margaret here will help you settle in...Dr. King Schootz?"

"Schultz."

"You room right next to it, now Monsieur Candie don't want no funny business you hear me?" Stephen released a wild howl of laughter before slapping the doctor on the back and opening the door for him to his room. "And as for you, Django." He grimaced, opening the door to the room next to Dr. King's. "This one's yours, boy. That bed's damn nice, too." Wearily, Django walked over to the window, parting the curtains and peering out. Broomhilda was gone. Stephen rattled on in the background, "Feel free to touch anything ya want, we burnin' all this shit once you gone." Django sat on the bed and glared at Stephen, who was about to leave the room before Django said, "Not so fast."

"I got more important things to do than jaw with you."

"Nigga, when I say stop, you plant roots." Django's tone and words stopped Stephen dead. Django continued, "This tiny bell on this table...is this for you? I ring this, you do for me?"

"Me or somebody," Stephen mumbled. Django reached over and picked up the bell, ringing it softly. "Whatcha want?" Stephen inquired, unamused.

"I want you to pour some water in that bowl for my wash up." Stephen did as he was told, greatly disgruntled, then handing him the basin of water. Django took it, then threw it right back in Stephen's face. The dripping wet, elderly slave could do nothing to the free man. "When I ring this bell, you better come a runnin'. You- not nobody else. While I'm on this property, you my nigger, Snowball." Stephen left slowly, shaking in rage and humiliation. The connecting door between Django and Dr. King opened, and though Django's eyes were shut as he laid on the bed, he could hear the thick German accent ask, "Was that wise?"

About an hour had passed. Dr. King was in his room, sitting on the bench at the foot of his bed, joined by Janie. "Actually, I've never read that book, I've always wanted to."

"It's a fascinating tale, Frankenstein, I could loan it to you if you like," King replied.

"I'd like that," Janie smiled. King released a tired yet happy giggle for no apparent reason other than the way Janie made him feel. He watched her with caring eyes as she stood, walking over to the vanity to observe her reflection. "So when she comes up, you will play a pleasant distraction to Calvin and his company, I'm sure. Of course I don't mean in a flirtatious sense, I am only aware of the lively company you provide. Though, your beauty certainly will hypnotize them."

"Well, I don't know about that. What I do know is, I'm glad to help however I can." She pinned a loose curl back into her hair and continued, "You're a good man, doctor. And you're doing a fantastic thing." King removed his jacket and placed it on the foot of the bed behind him, leaning back in an attempt to beat the Mississippi heat. It was shady inside, but the humidity was apparent no matter where they went. Janie's compliments weren't helping him cool off any more either. He rubbed his hands up his face in slight exhaustion. "I'm glad you're here, my love."

Janie turned to him. "Oh, I'm glad I'm here too." She approached him and stood in front of him. He scooted forward in his seat and looked up at her, lovingly. She sat on his lap, facing him, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt slowly. He watched her intently and continued their conversation, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other placed on her lower back, stroking with his thumb. "What are we going to do when we leave?" she asked.

"Do you mean with us?" he asked.

"Mmhmm," she purred.

"Well, I propose we head north. Django and Hilde will be free, we can assist them in starting their new life together...and then I could marry you."

She inhaled sharply and froze, then propping herself up with her hands on his chest. "What did you say?"

"We could spend the rest of our lives together. We are already closer than most when they wed. And...and I know my proposition isn't as romantic as another mans. And I understand if you aren't quite ready. But I know that, there isn't a life I want to live without you-"

She cut him off by crashing her lips against his; sliding her hands up his chest and behind his neck. When she pulled back, she giggled. "I take that as a yes?" King asked in a quivering voice. "Yes!" she replied with a joyous smile, causing him to laugh as well. "Wunderbar, yes," he beamed, before pulling her back in. He intensified the kiss as he pulled her closer by the waist towards his own. She began slightly unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt, running her hands over the areas she exposed. He pulled back to add, "Oh and on account of the ring-"

"-King, I don't care about the ring, I love you-"

"Alright, I love you too-" he managed before she giggled at his nervousness, kissing him again. He moved his lips from hers down to her jaw and to her neck, kissing and nipping lightly as he moved down and focusing on a sensitive spot. He heard a slight moan escape from her lips in a sensual whisper, causing him to pull her even closer. When he was with her, he felt a rush of happiness unlike one he had ever felt, and the moments they had together sustained him more than anything. He forgot all about his problems and took complete comfort in the fact that he had found the love of his life. His wild, ecstatic thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Dr. Schultz?" he heard from outside, "It's Lara...with a guest for you!"

King looked up at his fiancee and her at him. She mouthed the word, "SHIT!" and they both had to seal their mouths tight to hold back the laughter. She quietly gathered herself as he replied, "One moment, Miss Candie!"

Treading quietly towards the connecting door to her room, King held a hand behind her and kissed her lightly on the temple, whispering "I love you, Fraulein," into her ear. "I love you too," Janie replied lustily. She pulled him close for a brief passionate kiss, and from outside the door, Lara heard a muffled yet surprised moan from Dr. Schultz. "Is everything okay in their, doctor?" she asked.

Silence. Just as she leaned her head against the door to listen in, she jerked back when it was opened by the German man himself. "Everything is fine, mademoiselle. Hello ladies." He looked down at his slightly unbuttoned shirt, dismissing it, then turning his attention to the beautiful woman in front of him, Hilde.

He couldn't even hear what Miss Lara was telling him. All he could do was pretend to focus as his mind drifted to marrying Janie and spending the rest of his life with her. When Miss Lara stopped talking, King looked at Hilde and told her what he told Janie a few nights after they met. "As I look at you now, I can see all the passions you inspire are completely justified." She seemed speechless, though Schultz's mind was currently on another woman. _Get into character,_ his instinct told him, and he followed it, shaking his fantasies from his mind.

"Please, come inside Fraulein." Hilde followed, and as Lara began to speak, Dr. King interrupted her with a "Thank you very much," and a closed door in the face.

Janie was downstairs in one of the several living areas, admiring a watercolor painting of Candieland from 50 years ago. "Beautiful, id'nit?" she heard from behind her. She jumped and turned around. "Why Monsieur Candie...you startled me-"

"Don't," he told her.

"...Don't what?"

"Don't pretend with me." He paused, then raised his arms. "Look around, no one's here. No one's listenin' in. You don't have to act no more." He shot another intense look at her before she sighed heavily, placing her hand on her forehead. "Calvin. We're not doing this."

"We're just talkin'! That's all!" Calvin approached a red couch, sat abruptly and patted a place next to him. Hesitantly, she sat on the couch, but farther away than Calvin directed her to. He looked her over, breathing heavily. "So!" He clapped his hands, startling her once again. "How've you been."

"Well."

"I can see that! Whorin' around with a doctor mus' be pretty damn nice-"

"_Calvin-"_

"Yet again, I thought you didn' wanna mix business an' pleasure. If I recall correctly...you said, you needed to focus on your work. That gettin' married would make your life too messy now wouldn't it-"

"That's not the reason I left you, you know that perfectly well." Janie's face became warm, not like when she was with King, but out of rage and frustration. Calvin, however, was fogged by a delusion that no woman would ever reject him. "Why'd you come back?" he asked, like he knew the answer.

"Dr. Schultz asked me to accompany him."

"So my name din't...inspire any-"

"No. It didn't." Calvin pressed his lips together bitterly, nodding slightly. Janie couldn't help but feel a little sympathy. "Calvin...your parents set us up. You know that we aren't right for each other...right?"

"This whole place could be yours, _ours-"_

_He's just not getting it. _"You and I have different views, Calvin! You know I'm against all of this...slavery malarkey! And when you found out about my career choice..." she clutched her arm without realizing it, "You remember that night, Calvin. I'm sorry."

He paused. "Does the doc know?"

"No. Let's keep it that way."

"So... a German, huh?"

Janie stood up, shaking down her dress. "Yes, Monsieur Candie. A lovely man, isn't he?" As she began to walk away, she felt a tight grasp on her wrist. Without turning, she heard him say, "We ain't finished here yet." She froze where she stood, then shook her wrist away from him. He stood behind her walking with her. "Janie. Janie, you know I can change for you-"

"HA! Where have I heard _that_ before?!"

"You need to learn to-"

"Don't you DARE tell me what I need to learn! What, because a woman can't be a bounty hunter? Because you don't appro-"

"I could treat you right-"

"-Because violence is treating a lady right. Of course. Calvin, give it up." Before she knew it, Calvin pinned her against the wall, his hips heavy against hers. "Janie. I'm not letting you leave this time." He was smiling.

_Stay calm,_ she told herself. She took a deep breath. "Calvin...think about what you're doing." He leaned in even closer. "I know what I'm doin'," he replied, his face only a few inches from hers, and gaining. He kissed her roughly on the mouth, she turned her head away. "Baby girl...don't turn away from me!" his voice was sickly sweet, hiding the angered lust he had for her very poorly.

"Stop it..."

He licked the side of her neck, breathing heavily. "We both know...how much you've missed me." The man was practically panting, his grip on her tightening harshly. Suddenly, she had an idea. "Ohhh, I have," she replied, her voice switching to a sensual tone. Candie sounded shocked. "You...you have," his cool tone returning. Slowly, she pulled up her dress, revealing her leg. Candie's eyes brightened. He crouched down and moved his tongue up her leg at an excruciatingly slow pace. When he was almost to her knee, she had pulled her revolver out of the garter holster she had around her thigh, spinning it out quickly, just as King had taught her.

"I suggest you stop there," she warned, her voice becoming more heavy and filled with authority. Candie slowly stood up, barely backing away from her. "Now where'd you learn a fancy trick like that?" he asked her, his expression reading hatred.

"Didn't need to. It came naturally after the years. Of course, a woman knowing how to handle a gun is insane to you. And being a woman...someone with _so little understanding or experience..._ I could accidentally pull the trigger, right...now." She pressed the gun to his chest, invoking fear in his eyes. "Woah now. Your fiancee would be very upset to find me dead out here when he's tryin' to purchase a nigger of his own. Why don't you go on shootin' him too, if you're so against nigger fightin'?"

"Don't ask questions."

Slowly, he backed away. "Alright. Alright. I'll ease off. But pull that gun on me again, Dr. Fancy Pants'll be the first to know about your little secret." _No problem there,_ she thought. He continued,"Or better yet, I'll have my boys on you _and _your company in the blink of an eye." She felt threatened but didn't show it. Instead, she tucked the gun back into her holster and pulled down her dress. "This never happened," she told him.

"Agreed, Miss Ellwood," Candie snarled. "Agreed."

**BAH BAH BAAAAAAHHHHHH all reviews/follows appreciated. I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH.**


	9. Chapter 9: Auf Wiedersehen

**The final chapter everyone (well there will be an epilogue but ya know what I mean). I just want to say, I've had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you've had fun reading it. Thank you for your support! Enjoy.**

"A nigger that can win fights," Candie continued at the dinner table, "That should be your first, second, third, fourth, and fifth concern. After you have that, and you know you have that, then, you can start to implement a grand design. But since I enjoy my table status, beating Moguy by one year for that honor, allow the old sage to advise, first things first..." His ramblings about the mandingo business were halted when Broomhilda made her way around the table, serving more food to those who were running low. When she served Dr. King, he said something pleasant to her in German, and she replied back, smiling widely.

"I see you two gettin' along?" Calvin asked, his eyes dashing from Janie to King.

"Famously!" the doctor replied, "Monsieur Candie, you can't imagine what it's like not to hear your native tongue for four years."

"Hell, I can't imagine two weeks in Boston." Everyone at the table howled with laughter, Janie's being forced. "Just be careful doctor," Candie continued. "Looks like you got yourself a case of nigger love."

"Nonsense," Dr. Schultz replied, "While Broomhilda is a lovely companion, I only have eyes for my darling Janie." Candie glared as King kissed Janie on the cheek with a happy grin. Lara, in the background, ooh'd and aah'd at the couple before saying, "That's right doctor, and as far as I can tell, Hilde here has big eyes for Django."

King's world seemed to stop. The four of them, King, Janie, Django, and Hilde, involuntarily jerk; somehow only noticed by Stephen. Schultz immediately covered for them while Hilde walked off into the kitchen. Stephen, snarling, glared at her, handed Calvin his mint julep, and followed her into to kitchen.

Dinner passed by with lots of fake interest of mandingo fighting on the couple's part and lots of story telling. Eventually, right before dessert, the conversation turned to Broomhilda.

"You indicated earlier that you would be willing to part with Hilde?" Dr. King inquired innocently.

"Why yes I do believe I did," replied Candie.

Happily tapping his hands on the tabletop, Dr. King smiled, "Well in that case, allow me to propose another...well...proposition!" Before he could continue, Stephen barged through the kitchen door, acting like the classic "Old Jimmy". "Monsieur Candie?" he asked rather loudly.

Calvin sighed in frustration. "Stephen, you just interrupted Dr. Schultz!" Stephen turned to the doctor and good-naturedly said, "Oh, I do apologize doctor. My hearin' ain't worth a damn these days." Back to Candie, "Monsieur Candie, I need a word with you in the kitchen."

"What, you mean get outta my chair?"

"If you could manage it. It's about dessert."

"...What about dessert?"

"I would rather tell you in private."

"We're havin' white cake, what sort of melodrama could be brewin' back there?"

Stephen whispered something in Calvin's ear and walked off, leaving Calvin wide-eyed and curious.

King, on edge, intruded, "Monsieur Candie, is everything alright?"

"Of course," Candie replied, tossing his napkin onto the table as he rose from his position. "As you can see, talented no doubt as they are in the kitchen, from time to time...adult supervision is required. If you'll excuse me a moment." Calvin walked into the kitchen, of course leaving through it on the other side to the library; little known to Hilde's rescuers.

Janie held King's hand under the table, feeling warmth radiate from his hardened palms. His touch soothed her anxiety more than any drug could. "I wonder what could be going on back there," King inquired, feeling nervous himself but never showing it.

"Oh you never know with niggers these days, they fight over the silliest things, I remember one time-" Lara spoke endlessly seemingly without taking a breath. It had been ten minutes of her pointless gossiping until Candie returned, everyone acted amused by his sister's stories and then turned to him. "There you are!" Lara said, "I was beginning to think you and that old crow ran off together!" she laughed, obviously clueless to the change in his demeanor. He was apparently angry, and not masking it well.

"That'd be a helluva note, wouldn't it Lara Lee?" He paused. "Lara...I just looked out the big window. Ace Woody's out there dealin' with some sorta shady slaver sellin' a passel of ponies. Would you be a dear and go out there and give them gals an eyeball?" Lara left the room, practically skipping. Janie wanted to roll her eyes at how clueless this woman truly was. Calvin then opened a box, pulling out a skull and putting it delicately on the table. "Who's your little friend?" King laughed sweetly.

Candie sneered, and replied, "This is Ben. He's a old Joe that lived around here for a long time. And I do mean a long damn time. Well Ben here took care of my daddy and my daddy's daddy, till he up and kill Joe one day. Old Ben took care of me. Growing up the son of a huge plantation owner in Mississippi puts a white man in contact with a whole lot of black faces. I spent my whole life here right here in Candyland, surrounded by black faces. And seeing them every day, day in day out, I only had one question. Why don't they kill us?" Moguy laughed, and stopped the second Candie shot a dirty look. He continued, "Now right out there on that porch three times a week for fifty years, old Ben here would shave my daddy with a straight razor. Now if I was old Ben, I would have cut my daddy's goddamn throat, and it wouldn't have taken me no fifty years to do it neither. But he never did. Why not? You see, the science of analogy-" he began breaking the skull with the hammer, carefully selecting a certain area of the skull. The three comrades were confused and rather nervous at this point, "-is crucial to understanding the separation about two species. In the skull of the African here, the area associated with submissiveness is larger than any human or other sub-human species on planet Earth. If you examine this piece of skull here, you'll notice three distinct dimples. Here, here and here. Now if I was holding a skull of a... of an Isaac Newton or Galileo, these three dimples would be in the area of the skull most associated with creativity. But this is the skull of old Ben, and in the skull of old Ben unburdened by genes, these three dimples exist in the area of the skull most associated with servility. Now bright boy," Candie pointed to Django with the hammer, "I will admit you are pretty clever. But if I took this hammer here and I bashed it in your skull, you would have the same three dimples in the same place as old Ben. _HEY!"_

__Candie slammed down the hammer and beat his hand on the table and a plate several times, a few white men coming into the room with weapons. Dr. King swallowed nervously, Django reached for his pistol under the table, and Janie just glared right at her former lover, the man she hated with every fiber of her being. "LAY YOUR HANDS RIGHT ON THAT TABLE TOP!" They did as they were told. "Now if you lift those palms off that turtle shell table top , Bartholomew here gonna let loose with both barrels of that sawed off shotgun! Now there's been a lotta lies here at this table tonight, but _that _you can believe! Mr. Moguy. Would you be so kind as to remove the men's weapons? I'd be happy to remove Miss Ellwood's." Moguy did as he was told, and Candie went on both knees, hiking up Janie's dress with a bloody hand, red trailing across her light skin. He reached for the revolver and pulled it out, winking at her and standing up.

_Janie, think, what can we do to buy us some time? _She came to the conclusion that the only thing she could do to spare her companions and her future husband was to play with Candie's emotions. "A lot of lies, indeed," she started. Candie froze. "Well, well, look who decided to come clean?"

"Janie, what are you-" King started.

"Doctor, allow me to explain. Your beloved here...used to be _my _girl."

Dr. King's eyes widened in confusion and disbelief. "Janie...what is he-"

"Don't ask her, doctor!" Candie continued, "She's been lyin' to you. Bet you didn't even know she a bounty hunter. What do you think about that?"

"You knew him?" King continued with Janie, dismissing Candie's comment.

"King, I-" her eyes seemed to tear up.

"She's against nigger fightin' too. And by the looks of it, so are you. Because that ain't what y'all here for, is it?" Candie's eyes dashed from Janie, to King, and then to Django. "Bring her in boys!"

Two men brought in Hilde and threw her into a chair. Candie used Janie's revolver and pointed the gun right at Broomhilda's head. "Nw the way I see it, ain't nothin' changed. You still wanna buy a nigger, I still wanna sell one. So, with that in mind, in Greenville, Dr. Schultz, you yourself said that for the right nigger you'd be willin' to pay what some would consider a ridiculous amount. To which, me myself said, "What is your definition of ridiculous?" To which you said, "Twelve thousand dollars." He waited, to let the words sink in. Dr. King looked down at the table, unable to face him, unable to face Janie, unable to see how he had failed Broomhilda and Django. All he could do was stare at his hands and let his world crumble down. "Now, given y'all have ridden a whole lotta miles, went to a whole lotta trouble, and done spread a whole lotta bull to purchase the lovely lady to my left-" and at this, he rubbed his bloodied hand all over poor Hilde's face, "-it would appear that Broomhilda is, 'The Right Nigger'. And if y'all wanna leave Candieland with Broomhilda, the price is twelve thousand dollars."

"I take it you prefer the take it or leave it style of negotiation?" inquired King, frustration and disappointment searing through his tone.

"Put up or shove up, Schultz! You wanna save this nigger bitch you gonna pay my price-"

"May I lift my hands from the table top in order to retrieve my billfold?!"

"Yes. You may."

Stephen and Calvin glanced over the money, while Janie quietly pleaded with King. "I'm so sorry, I should have told you I just didn't know how you would take it-"

"Janie. I understand." His tone was sad but his words were genuine, crushing Janie's heart even more. A tear went down her cheek, "I'm so sorry."

"SHUT UP!" Candie pointed his hammer at her while Stephen handed him the money owed. Candie, clearly satisfied, began clutching at his hand before offering them a bitter invitation to join him in dessert.

Beethoven played on the harp as Candie signed Broomhilda's freedom papers. Her smile was wide as she held hands with her husband, who held her close. Meanwhile in the living room, Dr. King sat by Janie, unable to speak to her. He understood completely, and in fact didn't even mind she was with Candie. But the fact she hid it from him was hard to handle, and the fact she was ever with him made him wonder what happened. His questions were answered. "When my father died, I needed money. I had to marry rich or die, and as much as I didn't want to, Candie's parents were quite taken with me. At a young age, they set us up and I was never happy, King! I was never happy..." her voice cracked as she hid her face in her hands, holding back tears. Dr. Schultz never wanted to see her cry, so he instantly wrapped his arms around her. "I know, Fraulein. It's okay. I don't love you any less...if anything you saved us back there!" He laughed quietly. She laughed too, still hurt by her own actions. "I'm so sorry," she turned to him and buried her face in his collar as he closed his eyes and held her, smelling her hair and feeling her heartbeat. All actions he had become to used to but never seemed to grow tired of. "Don't be, darling. I just hope you don't feel the need to hide anything else from me?"

"Of course not," she assured him, completely truthful, kissing his beard.

"Alright. Come with me, this harp is making me rather nervous." He gently pulled her up by the hand as they made their way to the library. He held an arm around her waist as they observed Calvin's book collection.

"White cake?" They heard behind them.

"I don't go in for sweets much, thank you."

"Awww, course not, Janie's already all the sweet you need." Calvin said bitterly. "You still broodin' about me gettin' the best of you? And your girl?"

"I don't mind who Janie has or hasn't courted. The past is the past, and she's been clean about hers. I've only been thinking about the poor devil you fed to the dogs this afternoon. And I was wondering what Dumas would think of it."

Calvin handed Dr. King the papers he required before sitting in a lounge chair. "Come again?"

"Alexander Dumas," Janie rolled her eyes. "He wrote The Three Musketeers."

Dr. Schultz added, "I figured you must be an admirer, you named your slave after the novel's lead character. If Alexander Dumas had been there today, I wonder what he would have made of it?"

Calvin laughed, "You doubt he'd approve?"

"His approval would be a dubious proposition at best."

"Soft-hearted Frenchie."

Janie turned to face him and said, "Alexander Dumas is black."

Calvin paused, embarrassed and angry. "You know, Miss Ellwood, with you thinkin' you know the world, I'm glad I broke things off."

"You have got to be joking," she replied. "Even Moguy doesn't buy that." She turned to Candie's assistant who was rolling his eyes, but stopped as soon as Candie turned to see him.

Dr. King tucked the papers Calvin handed him in his coat pocket after examining them. "We got them. Let's go." He held Janie's lower back, guiding her out of the room as Django and Broomhilde started to leave as well.

"One more moment, doctor!" Calvin rolled out his wrist and formed a gesture with his pointer finger, his back to the people trying to leave.

"What?" Dr. King asked.

"It's a custom here in the South, once a business deal is concluded, for the two parties to shake hands." He rose from his chair and faced the doctor. "It implies...good faith."

"Well," Janie said bitterly, "We're not from the South."

"You two are in my house, doctor I'm afraid I must insist."

This turned Schultz around as well. "Insist...what? That I shake your hand before I leave? Then I'm afraid I must insist in the opposite direction."

"You know what I think you are?"

"What you think I am? I do not."

"I think you're a bad loser."

"And I think you're an abysmal winner." Janie smiled at her fiancee's wit, standing beside him.

"Never the less, here in Chickisaw County, a deal ain't done until the two parties shake hands. Even after all this paper signin', it don't mean _shit_ if you don't shake my hand."

"If he doesn't shake your hand, you're gonna throw away twelve thousand dollars?" Janie interjected. "I doubt that." King started to turn again, pulling her along, "Let's go."

"Bartholomew. If they try to leave here before this German nigger lover shakes my hand, cut 'er ass down." Schultz looked to Django and Broomhilda lovingly, then to Janie even warmer, then to Candie. "You really want me to shake your hand?" Janie and Django shot an expression of worry towards each other.

"I insist." Calvin extended his palm.

"Well. If you insist." King walked up to Candie, followed by Janie who said, "Wait!"

Almost in slow motion, King spun out his revolver and shot Candie right in the heart. Blood streamed from his chest as he fell backwards, defeated. Stephen, horrified, screamed "CALVIN NO!" Bartholomew aimed his gun at Dr. King, and just as he fired, Janie pushed him out of the way. When the bullet hit her, she flew back instantly, right into the shelves of books behind her that fell down like birds with broken wings. Django shot Bartholomew in the back of the head, then Moguy, pushing Hilde behind him. Dr. King, however, stood wide eyed, on the verge of tears. His mouth hung open in disbelief as everything seemed to slow down. In the distance he heard, "King! KING!" And in a fit of rage, he snapped back to reality, yelling angrily and shooting anyone who approached the house nearly instantly. Django told Hilde to close the library door and check on Janie in hopes of saving her, and Hilde did as she was told.

Together, Django and Dr. King were a unstoppable force. King covered the floor above and the other rooms while Django shot anyone who attempted to enter the house. King felt the adrenaline course through his body as his heart broke, trying to find some sort of hope but mostly covered with worry and grief. Men tumbled down from the balcony and stairs and landed in a loud thump, their bodies spilling blood out onto the tile. He couldn't have said whether it was two hours or two days, men never seemed to stop coming from the house. When people seemed to stop appearing, Django cornered Stephen and shot him in both knees, then, after saying "Goodbye Snowball, you worthless old nigger," he jammed his gun in Stephen's jaw and blew his brains against the wall.

Dr. King felt weak everywhere, nauseous even, as he checked the area to make sure they were clear and then running back into the library, knocking things down as he nearly sprinted frantically to check on his soon-to-be wife. She was crumpled on the floor, paler than ever. Hilde was pressing on the wound in her side and wiping sweat from her forehead, whispering reassurance to her. His voice seemed to break. "Janie..." Hilde looked up at him with sad eyes and shook her head, reduced to tears. Django entered the room, embracing his sobbing wife and looking down at the woman who changed his friend's life.

King fell to his knees next to Janie, applying pressure to the wound. She coughed. Nothing seemed to be helping. Her navy blue dress was turning a dark purple as blood poured endlessly out of her. "Janie," he held her cold face in his free hand, kissing her forehead, then her lips. "Janie, please..."

She coughed again, breathing heavy, her eyes shutting slightly. "King," she breathed out.

"Fraulein, stay with me, please, hang in there! We're going to get you to the hospital but you have to stay awake, do you understand? You have to hold on-"

"King," she interrupted him. "I'm not gonna make it-"

Large, hot tears fell down his cheeks and became trapped in his beard. "Don't you dare say that, my love. You are going to live-"

"-Listen..." she started. "I love you. I love you _so much_-" she winced in pain, her breathing slowing and her face becoming colder.

"I love you too, Janie," he held her tighter, tears falling from his eyes onto her face, he attempted to wipe them gently from her. "More than anyone I have known or ever will know. That's why you have to be strong, liebling."

"We're going...to get married-" she started with a smile on her face.

"Yes!" King smiled too, moving hair away from her face, "Yes we are, very soon, as soon as we bring you to the hospital-" he attempted to lift her up but she cried out the little amount of voice she had in pain.

"King...we can't. I'm not gonna make it... But know that...you made me happy...unlike anyone else..and I love...I love you..." her voice faded out as she fell completely in his arms. His eyes widened and his breathing became more sharp, tears coming more frequently. "No, no, no..." he muttered, lightly shaking her. "Janie...JANIE!" He yelled now, his cries becoming louder and more apparent. He buried his cries in her shoulder, still holding her, cradling her almost now. He kissed her again and mumbled "I love you," under his sobbing. Django watched, devastated, his wife crying into his coat. He tried to comfort her but couldn't find anything to say in this moment. It was almost as if King's sadness filled everyone.

King could only repeat how much he loved her and cry, holding her. She was gone. And he would never love again.


	10. Epilogue

Epilogue.

In Connecticut, where Janie was born, under a tree in a shady plot of green grass, she was buried. Django and Hilde held hands as they paid their respects to the woman who helped them be together, and stood back and Dr. King stood at her grave.

"It was my fault," King told her. "I assumed I would lose you if you didn't join me...I never knew I would lose you if you did." A tear fell from his tired eyes. "I'm so sorry, Fraulein."

He slowly approached the grave, and laid down a rose with the ring he wanted to give her on it. "I love you," he whispered, before standing and taking a long moment of silence by the grave.

Approaching his friends, Hilde gently rubbed his back and looked at him sadly as the three of them made their way to the horses. King mounted his horse and began trotting away, but before he made his way off, Django asked, "Where are you goin' now?"

Sadly, almost in a monotone, King replied, "I'm sure there are some bounties to retrieve somewhere."

"Will I see you again?"

King pondered it. "I'm sure you will." He tried to reassure his old friend. "But if not...auf wiedersehen." And with that, he rode off, with nothing more than a grey suit, a revolver, and a broken heart.

_His name is King_

_He had a horse_

_Along the countryside_

_I saw him ride_

_He had a gun_

_I knew him well_

_I heard him singing_

_I knew he loved someone._

-End-

**Thank you for reading. I nearly cried when I wrote this. Ugh. Why do I do this?! D: Anyways. Love you all. Thank you for the support.**


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